Winter Sonata
by purpleraincloud
Summary: “Lewis was the first person that I cared about who died while I was under the guise of The Batman…” The ghost of a bitter smile spread across his face. “He wasn’t the last.”


Winter Sonata 

Prologue: Waking the Dead

            Bruce was dreaming.

            Funny, since he didn't remember falling asleep in the first place…yesterday's clothes unceremoniously tossed on the floor. Alfred will be horrified.

It was a night of approaching curvaceous women in tiny black dresses and middle aged, single men wearing their vulnerability and bearing their wallets like badges of honor. He drank about a half a glass of champagne with Mr. Myerwitz, a business partner from Zurich, and stumbled into bed at 5:30 a.m.

Then came the forgotten dream. A brown eyed child of around six or seven chanting some stupid rhyme…

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…_

_All good children go to heaven. _

Then there was another face…older, but so obviously the same small boy. He plugged his ears at the sound of the long, horrible scream that he hadn't realized was his own. __

"I'm sorry," came the mutter as he continued to thrash in bed. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry…"

He awoke, screaming aloud.

Part One: Forgive Us Our Trespasses 

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            "Damn, you know, I keep telling Bruce to upgrade that lousy archive of his…but does he listen?"

            "Um, Barbara?"

Name: Sam Rider

            "There we go. 'Bout time. I know we hardly access these files…but still. It's not like he can't afford it or anything."

            "Barbara? Are you talking to me or yourself?"

Executed: October 3, 19..

Synopsis: Served six months at Blackgate for blackmail and the attempted murder of a Supreme Court justice. Served as an accomplice in the kidnapping, murder and mutilation of Lewis Pierson, son of billionaire Eric Pierson. 

            "Who's this guy again and why are we looking at his file?" the voice of Tim Drake floated through the Bat COM link with unconcealed frustration. Perched on a ledge overlooking Gotham Cathedral in full Robin drab, he waited for the purse-snatcher to round the corner.

            "Don't know…it's been a while since I had someone try to access files off the server from an independent computer."

            "Just a little more…"

            Tim had often marveled at the grace and skill to which Dick or even Cassie emerged from the shadows to surprise and detain their prey. 

            "What are you doing?"

Tim preferred to pounce.

            "Now!"

            With a thud, the guy went down and Robin was soon twirling the red Gucci shoulder bag back down Broadway.

            "Sorry about that Barbara, had some business to take care of." 

            "Hey, I have all the time in the world."

            "Yeah?" Tim inquired, popping open a thermos and relishing in the smell of fresh, homemade chicken soup. "Where's Dick off to these cold autumn nights?"

 "Oh you know, the usual. Stopping a smuggling ring here, a murder there…whatever. So this Sam guy, no bells?"

"He was executed before I was even born…so no, sorry Babs, I got nothing. What'd Dick say?"

"I haven't asked yet."

"Bruce?"

"Doesn't even know some bub even hacked into the archives."

"I see. Got your work cut out for you tonight, huh?"

"Damn, I miss your line of work."

            Tim cut the COM link before Barbara could hear him choke on his chicken soup. 

            "You tell him yet?" A familiar voice inquired after a moment of silence. 

            Barbara smiled. "I missed you."

            Another brief period of silence and then a laugh and a:

            "Me too."

            "No, I haven't." Barbara replied, shutting the door to her bedroom quietly. So paranoia was contagious…so what?

            "I dropped by that place you traced the hack to." Dick continued, his voice containing a trace of unidentifiable sadness. 

            "I take it you found nothing?" Barbara muttered, seeking solace in the recline of her chair.

            "If it's possible I found less than that. I do, however, have some kind of lead."

            "What might that be?" 

            "I need you to give me a bio, and I mean a history of from A to Z. Anything that has the faintest hint of truth to it."

            "You got it darling. Who's the resident scum bag?"

            "Frankie Akhabue."

* * *

            "The appeal is scheduled for the thirty-first. I have representatives for the surviving members of the Piersons…"

            "Don't bother."

            Six heads startled at the gruff and forceful words spoken.  

            "Mr. Wayne?" Warren Thompson, the youngest and by far the bravest, voice in the room piqued up.

            "Warren…I have expressed innumerable amount of times that I wish the Piersons to be left out of this. They have suffered enough, don't you think?" Bruce's voice lacked any hint of questioning. It was a challenge.

            Warren bowed his head and settled back into his seat. 

* * * 

            "This Julie person…she lives in Gotham?" Cassie asked, setting the dining table for four. 

"Actually she lives in Metropolis. We went to high school together. She was always a go-getter, a career woman. I know she disapproves of me settling down with Dick and all, but hey, we each choose a different path in life." Barbara trailed a few feet after her, meddling and readjusting Cassie's work.

Cassie shook her head and laughed, her jet-black hair bouncing from side to side. She batted Barbara away playfully. 

            "I just want it to be perfect." Barbara explained. 

            "I really don't think Miss Marsh will think any less of us if the forks aren't perpendicular to the champagne glasses." A sly voice added from the doorway.

            "No one asked you!" Barbara bellowed. She quietly counted to ten and when Dick still hadn't entered the kitchen, she proceeded after him. Cassie smiled and shook her head knowingly.

            "Woah! Bought enough food? Are we feeding four or forty?" Barbara asked, taking a bag of groceries from Dick.

            "Back off woman. Half of this stuff is for me."

            "So I noticed," Barbara retorted, pulling out a box of cornflakes and giggling into the sleeve of her sweater. 

            "Hey," Dick replied defensively, "try waking me up for work without a box of those babies."

            Barbara pecked the tip of Dick's nose with a light kiss. "I like you in the morning. You're much more…amiable." 

            "Hey, you're a helluva gal to wake up beside." Dick replied, snaking an arm around Barbara's waist.

            "I bet you say that to all your women."

            "Hey." Dick pouted. "I just did."

            Cassie chose that moment to barrel into the kitchen and start peeling groceries out of their bags. She looked up at Dick and Barbara and smiled innocently. 

            "Dinner table is now set…incorrectly…but I don't care."

            Dick laughed as Barbara flushed, hearing a light buzzing sound fill the air.

            "She's here."

* * *

            "So who is this Akhabue guy?" It was the voice of Tim Drake, not Robin, mind you. Behind him, guests mingled for his dad's annual Halloween costume ball.

            "Did some leg work and connected him to a murder that happed in the same warehouse Babsy tracked the hacker at." Dick answered carefully.

"Creepy…"

An eruption of girlish giggling temporarily derailed their thoughts. Dick was quickly back to sniggering at the thought of Tim in that ridiculous…

            "Stop it! I didn't wear the darn dinosaur suit, okay?"

"I know, but still…just thinking about it makes me laugh."

"Real funny."

"Oh yeah. Save that suit for when we all go trick-or-treating this Friday, all right?"

"Um…no thanks," Tim deadpanned. 

Dick chucked lightly.

 "So…" Tim continued, pulling the collar of his suit uncomfortably. "This Akhabue guy…any connection to Sam Rider?"

            "That's what I want you to find out."

            "What? I have a costume ball to go to…"

            "Yeah and Barbara's got a dinner guest over…"

            "Who?" Tim pressed tactfully. 

            Dick sighed, running a hand through his raven hair. "You remember Irene Chambers?"

            Of course he did. Who wouldn't? Criminal mastermind she was not, but she had managed to gain fame by holding both her son and an entire block of Gotham hostage with sixty gallons of liquid nitrate. 

            "Irene Chambers?"

No cute pseudonym, thank God.

"The asylum escapee who committed suicide and tried to take everyone in Gotham with her?" Tim asked, a bit incredulous. 

            "Yup, that's her." Dick replied coolly. "Babsy and I, well," Dick stuttered, scratching his head a bit. "We were thinking of adopting her son, Jake."

            Tim whistled a bit into the receiver, before smiling and responding with an enthusiastic: 

"Cool."

Dick laughed. "Yeah, anyway, I thought you'd love an excuse to bail."

            "All right," Tim conceded, "I'll think of something."

            "Thanks."

            "You owe me." Tim added.

             "I'll see what I can do."

            "Over and out then."

            Dick waited for the phone to go dead before replacing it on the receiver and rejoining Cassie and Barbara at the dining table.

            "So Dick, what do you do again?" Julie asked politely, taking another biscuit from the proffered basket.

            "I'm a police officer at Bludhaven."

            "What can I say," Barbara responded with a Cheshire grin, "I love a man in uniform."

            Julie laughed. "Don't I know it," she said cheerily, but neither Dick nor Barbara missed her long, disturbed glance at Barbara's wheelchair.

 "All right Babs, I know you called me here for a reason. Let's get down to it."

            Dick and Barbara exchanged a look.

            "You're a caseworker for Gotham's Fosters and Families, right?" Dick asked, making the initial move.

            "Yes, I am." Julie confirmed, sipping her water calmly.

            Barbara sighed. "A new child, a seven year old, has become your latest case."

            "John Chambers."

            Dick nodded. "We're interested in adopting him and we wanted you to tell us if we had a shot at it."

            Julie set her glass down and nodded. "I see. John has been through quite an ordeal. His father abandoned him when he was born; his mother was in and out of mental institutions and recently committed suicide. No family, no one to turn to."

            "We know his history, Julie." Barbara whispered softly.

            Julie nodded. "His case is being heard tomorrow. I can…I'll put in a good word."

            Dick and Barbara exchanged relived glances. 

            This family just keeps getting more and more complicated, Cassie thought, eyeing Barbara as she threw her arms around Dick in a tight embrace.

* * *

            At approximately 1:30 a.m. the next morning, Dick picked up Tim's call.

            "What did you find out?" He asked, throwing his robe on and leaving a still sleeping Barbara soundly in their bedroom. 

            "Akhabue was also a suspect in the murder of…"

            "Lewis Pierson…yeah," Dick replied, opening the file with the information Barbara had found on him. 

            "Okay…" Tim paused and then added, "he was acquitted on a technicality, but many people, including the Piersons themselves, believed he was the true person responsible for Lewis's death."

            "So maybe the state executed the wrong man?"

            "I think so." Tim admitted, gravely.

            "What happened to Akhabue?"

            "His case is being appealed…"

            "When?" Dick asked, shocked.

            "The day after tomorrow."

* * *

            Dick quietly replaced the phone on the receiver and sat down beside Barbara in the kitchen.

            "Should we wake Cassie?" She asked quietly.

            Dick shook his head. "Why put her into this as well when we've already agreed to try to start keeping Tim out?"

            Barbara nodded in agreement. "Okay. What do we do now?"

            Dick shrugged. "Bruce and Lewis Pierson…"

            "They were good friends," Barbara finished for him. "Best of friends actually. It's hard to think of Bruce as having real friends, but this was a Bruce who still had his parents to love."

            Dick lowered his head slightly, his usually bright blue eyes darkening a bit. 

            "When he was kidnapped, Bruce must have been terrified."

            "Angry was the word I would have picked," Dick answered gently. "They hadn't spoken in years, but I think Bruce never stopped linking the happiness he had felt with his parents to some extent with Lewis."

            "The lawyers…the media frenzy…God," Dick put his head in his hands. "What a nightmare."

            "But he got his man." Barbara interjected, a hint of desperation in her voice.

            "Maybe…maybe not." Dick replied.

            "What do you mean?"

            "Tim's found some people who say Rider may not have been Lewis's killer…that Akhabue is."

            "Meaning Bruce…"

            "…Had an innocent man executed for murder," Dick finished, his voice full of an emotion Barbara incorrectly identified as sorrow. 

            A stale silence hung in the air.

            "He accessed his own files from the warehouse where," Dick paused to regain his composure, "where Lewis was murdered."

            "Poor Bruce," Barbara whispered, trying to stop the rising dread from her voice. 

            A flicker of something dark and almost unnatural passed through Dick's eyes. "I wouldn't sympathize with him quite yet."

            "Why? Dick…"

            "Bruce is fronting an appeal on the state's case against Akhabue."

            "My God." Barbara gasped. 

            "There are more ghosts in this family than we thought Barb. Much more."

* * *

            "When's this trial supposed to take place?" Tim asked in a low voice, walking in with Dick and Barbara into family court for their first hearing on the adoption of John Chambers. 

            "Tomorrow." Barbara answered, straightening her blouse. "How do I look?" She asked her distracted husband. Shaking his head as if to clear, Dick answered in a confident voice, "Beautiful. As always." Barbara smiled and went on in ahead of them.

            "We can't let Bruce go through with it." Dick muttered in a low voice so that only Tim could hear him.

            "Why?"

            "I can't explain it," Dick replied. "After Zucco killed my parents I thought…I thought his death would give me closure, but it didn't. If anything, it made their loss seem even more…final." Tim shot Dick a sympathetic glare. Dick nodded, acknowledging it, but quickly moving on. "If Bruce goes ahead with this trial," he continued, "he's going to come out of it changed…colder than ever. No matter what the outcome…I know it."

            "But what can we do?"

            Dick rubbed his eyes. "I don't know…"

            "Richard John Grayson and Barbara Gordon Grayson?" A voice summoned from within the courtroom.

            "That's your cue." Tim explained.

            Dick smiled wanly. 

            "Good luck."

            Dick nodded and joined Barbara in front of the judge. Sitting directly to the left of them was a small boy, couldn't be more than eight or nine by Tim's reckoning. He had unruly brown hair and was wearing a dirty, worn out green sweater and baggy jeans. In his soft brown eyes, however, Tim saw a fire that was definitely Grayson material. He smiled at that, reveling in Dick and Barbara's future happiness together. Quietly, Tim stepped out of the courtroom and joined Cassie outside.

            "We go to Gotham now?" She asked curiously, not fully understanding what was going on. Alfred, who stood beside her, glared at Tim in a way that made him blush.

            "Yeah, come on, I'll fill you in on the way," Tim replied, stepping into Bruce's 1974 Bentley. "And Alfie? Floor it."

* * *

            "Mr. Wayne?" A tall, brunette walked into the stately, immaculate office. She was young, twenty-three or twenty-four maybe. So young… "A Mr. Grayson is on the phone, he'd like to speak to you."

            Bruce looked up at her young, pale face and smiled a bit. Or what he thought passed as a smile nowadays. "Patch him through. Thank you Laura." The woman nodded and quietly withdrew back outside.

            "Dick?" Bruce greeted in a harsher voice than he had intended.

            "Why don't I think you're happy to hear from me?" 

            He knew what the discussion would run into. He checked Oracle's files; saw what she was researching on. Only whispers about the Akhabue case made it to the media, he made sure of that. It wouldn't be like last time. He wouldn't let anyone make a mockery out of Lewis's…Bruce took a minute to rein his emotions… what happened to Lewis.

            "I'm guessing you already know what I'm going to say."

            "I have to do it Dick."

            "Bruce…" There was an odd tone to Dick's voice. A mix of exhaustion, weariness and pleading…

            "Imagine if someone had done it to Wally…kidnapped him in front of his family…did things to him…tortured him and then…then left him to die," Bruce paused. Panting. Dick said nothing. "I've waited for years Dick…and if other things hadn't…"

How could Bruce explain it? Before it wouldn't have mattered to him. He had wanted revenge. To kill the poor bastard... clench his neck between his fingers and watch the life drain out of his eyes. But now…things were different. His life was no longer his own…it belonged to other people…Dick…Barbara…Cassandra...Tim… He would not risk their happiness even if it meant he could never be at peace with himself again. 

            "I love you Bruce."

'Boy oh boy Dickie, you sure pick your moments', Dick thought, scolding himself. It was out of his mouth before he could control it. But it didn't matter…it had sounded like the right thing to say at the time and besides, there was the pure and simple fact that…it was true. 

   "But perhaps even more importantly…I respect you…admire you. Nothing you could do could ever change that."

            Silence for a moment and then:

"I know that."

            "So stop this," Dick persisted, again almost pleading now. "You'll never move on if you don't walk away from this trial."

            "Dick…" Bruce said his name as he did when he was a small child, as he did when he first met the young boy who would end up playing such a pivotal role in the recreation of his soul. "I have to. For Lewis's sake…and for mine."

            Without another word, he clicked the phone off. Dick listened to the dial tone for a minute before realizing what it meant.

            "Dick?" Barbara's hands were gentle in his. "What happened?" 

            Dick's stare was a bit glazed, but full of determination.

            "We have to get down to Gotham Civic Courthouse."

Part Two: All Hallow's Eve

            "Trick or treat!" A small child with a bucktooth announced proudly, holding up a bag bustling with mini-Snickers bars and lollipops. Cassie smiled and dug into her pocket to pull out a small tootsie roll pop she had intended to eat herself later and placed it into the grubby hands of the little boy. The child laughed and merrily went along his way. 

            Everywhere there were children in make-up and costumes. Tim even found a few 'Robins' in the crowd and laughed at the curious wonder of it all. 

            "We better make our way to the courthouse or else we'll be late." Tim told her, looking out onto the barren road that lead from Mason to Arbor St. Cassie nodded slowly and then a wicked grin crossed her face.

            "You know…you never take me on any real dates."

            Tim blushed and looked down, incredible interest in his shoes suddenly arising. Cassie laughed and slapped him, rather hard, on the shoulder.

            "I don't mind…not really." 

            Tim smiled stupidly and gently touched the back of Cassie's hand with his right index finger.

            "We have to go." He whispered.

            "Then what are you waiting for?" She said in an inappropriately loud voice. He took her hand as they raced down the empty sidewalk. 

* * *

            "Mr. Wayne?" Warren asked, concealing the worry in his voice rather poorly.

            Bruce batted the lawyer away, saying he had a headache. Warren carefully retreated back into his office, ignoring the strange, disturbed look on Wayne's face.

            'What's the matter with me?' Bruce thought, gazing out into the gray, late afternoon sky.

            _"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…"_

'I can still hear his voice in my head.'

            _"All good children go to heaven."_

'That's what's the matter with me.'

            _"Bruce?"_

_            Emily Pierson…_

_            "Hey Emily. It has been a long time."_

_            It's always a blonde that does me in…and Emily was no different. I was a fool to not see it before._

_            "Bruce…Oh God, Bruce…I need your help."_

_            Except Emily had no gimmicks…no leather body suit, no whips, no tiaras or plant fetishes…She was just a woman… _

_"What's wrong Em?"_

_Granted, a woman with a bank account balance larger than the state budget..._

_"Its…its Lewis. There was…God! Bruce, help me…please…"_

_There are very few moments in my life that I remember clearer…the murder of my parents…watching the Graysons plummet to their deaths…holding Jason's lifeless form in my hands… Lewis's tale isn't much happier…_

_"Bruce…they-they took him! Three men broke into our house and…Dad's called everyone but…"_

_"Emily…Emily! Calm down_. _Tell me everything you know…"_

_"The police…they say they've tracked him to some warehouse on Clemente Boulevard…near the docks…Frank Akhabue and Sam…Sam…"_

_"Sam Rider." _

_"Yes! That's it!"_

_"Emily…Em? Listen to me. I'm going to hang up and call my people. I will do everything in my power to bring him back…Lewis will be okay, Em. He has to be."_

"Bruce?"

Dick. 

"I thought you'd be down at the courthouse by now," Dick's voice was gentle, but firm. "What're you still doing here, Bruce? Brooding? Can't you let the dead rest for once?"

There was an awkward scuffling of a pair of feet that he did not recognize. Whirling, Bruce found himself eye to eye with a small, brown haired boy who regarded him with undisguised wonder. Caught staring, the boy looked away and carefully retreated to a position behind Dick's legs. Dick, sensing Bruce's apprehension, swept the boy into his arms and whispered something into his ear. The boy glanced at Bruce and then quickly back to Dick and nodded. Once placed back on the ground by Dick, the boy ran to the exit. With a friendly wave, he went through the door, letting it click gently shut behind him.

Dick returned his attention to Bruce as if nothing had transpired and made a small gesture, still waiting for his reply. 

"Lewis was the first person that I cared about who died while I was under the guise of The Batman…" The ghost of a bitter smile spread across his face. "He wasn't the last."

Dick was startled by the strange mix of menace and fear he briefly saw pass Bruce's usual calm, unrelenting stare. 

"I managed to stop his killers from escaping, but…" Bruce paused and turned to face the wild, accepting eyes of his protégé. "Towards the end…when Lewis looked up at me with terror and loathing in his eyes…I wished nothing more than to peel the cowl off and show him that I was there for him…but he'll never know that."

Dick said nothing, but came to stand beside him. 

"I know it." He said finally.

Bruce did not react. Just continued staring out into the October sky.

"That boy…"

Dick blushed a bit. "His name's Jake, well actually, John, but everyone calls him Jake. He's going to be staying with Babs, Cassie and I for a little while."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You're adopting him?" 

"We hope to," Dick answered, shrugging. "But right now family court wants us to foster him for a while…see how he likes it with us…then maybe we can file for adoption."

After a brief pause, Dick felt Bruce's strong arms collapse around him.

"I'm proud of you son."

Another moment passed as Bruce recomposed himself and without another word, left the room, not bothering to notice the huge grin that spanned from ear to ear on Dick's face.

* * *

            "Dick!" Barbara snapped softly, pulling her husband aside. "Where have you been, the trial started two hours ago."

            "Why aren't you in the courtroom?" Dick asked, a playful and confused look in his eyes.

            Barbara sighed. "They wouldn't let me in."

            "We're not on 'The List?'"

            "The what?"

            "You know…'The List.' Seeesssh, Babs, have you ever been initiated into the social workings of things? You gotta be on 'The List.'"

            Barbara shot Dick a deadly look. Dick laughed gently plucked Barbara from her chair and laid her down on an empty bench. He then took a seat right beside her. 

            "Where's Jake?" Barbara inquired, the edge gone from her voice.

            "Last time I saw him, Alfred was dragging him into the 'gentlemen's' section of every store in downtown Gotham."

            Barbara laughed at the image of the scruffy brown haired boy being dragged into Saks Fifth Avenue by their stately, immaculate butler. 

            "We're going to be okay, Babsy. We'll be okay." Dick told her, taking her hand and kissing it lightly on the palm. 

            An outburst from within the courtroom disrupted their brief moment of reverie. Barbara released Dick's hand and gestured for him to go on without her. As gracefully as he could, Dick got up and bolted towards the source of the commotion. 

            "What's going on?" He asked a nearby spectator.

            "Apparently, Wayne's accused Ms. Pierson of playing a part in the murder."

            _What? How did he find out about that?_

            "Why?" 

            The man shrugged. "Don't know…apparently, someone's come forward with new evidence."

            "New…"

            Tim. 

            Dick pushed himself ahead of the cameramen and news crews around him.

            "Hey!" A voice called out. "You can't-"

            Dick ignored the voices calling out to him and unceremoniously shoved anyone who got in his away aside.

He would have thrown the huge, wooden doors of the courtroom wide open, had it not been for the strong, persistent grip from the hands that had latched itself onto Dick's shoulders.

            Turning, Dick spotted Cassie racing up to him and beside him was, of course, Tim.

            "It's okay Dick." Cassie told him calmly. 

            "Yeah." Tim agreed, nodding. "We…did some research."

             "I figured…"

            "You knew too?" Cassie asked, a bit confused.

            Shrugging, Dick settled back down beside Barbara and let his head drop to her shoulders.

            "Shortly before Lewis's murder, several large sums of money were extracted from Ms. Pierson's account…added together they account comes up to the exact same figure that Rider admitting to accepting in exchange for Lewis's murder."

Tim nodded.

"Couldn't find any smoking guns though," Dick continued, his face dismal. "Found a bunch of empty paper trials…but nothing I could use to establish that Emily Pierson was in fact, the one that hired Sam Rider and Frank Akhabue. With Lewis out of the way, Emily stood to inherit the entire estate…so she…she had him murdered." Finished explaining, Dick grimly turned to Cassie and Tim. "What kind of new evidence did you come up with anyway?"

Cassie shrugged innocently. "Let's just say…Ms. Pierson was visited by three ghosts and decided she was safer in prison."

After an awkward instant of silence, Barbara broke out in a smirk. "You didn't…"

Shrugging, Tim plopped down beside Dick and grinned wickedly. "Bruce helped."

Smiling, Dick snaked an arm around Barbara and Tim and muttered, "Well, I guess that means he's over that witch."

The soft laughter drifted to fill the entire courtroom.

'Oh yeah,' Dick thought leisurely, reclining even more towards Barbara. 'We can fix this.'

Part Three: December and Everything Else

November 26, 2002

Bruce-

It's Babs, Dick and gang again. We spent another affectionate afternoon today in People's Park in Berkeley, California. Don't worry; I think Dick says we'll head down to San Francisco and then slingshot our way back to Gotham. Despite many attempts to find a mystery to solve, our sleepy little vacation has yet to produce much of an adventure for my dear husband. (sigh) I think we better get back before he tries to question the bellhop about the missing towels…again. Besides, I think Cass is starting to pine for our dear old Tim. (It took me forever to write that down with her hitting me and all.) Till next time.

-Babs

* * *

                                                                                                            December 1, 2002

Dearest Jake,

     I hope you like my postcard (I tried to find one with that cartoon character you like so much, but they didn't have any, sorry.) It's been a mess here without all of you. If it makes Cassie feel better, Tim has been bored to death without her around, but he and his dad finally decided to take a vacation down in Florida. (Don't worry Jake; he said he'd bring you back something really nice.) Well, to answer your questions, I haven't really been up to much these past few weeks. Some boring business stuff and I've now hired the architect I'm going to have spruce up that loft of yours. (You can tell your father I'm doing this whether he likes it or not.) The place should look brand new by the time you guys get back. Till next time!

Love,

Bruce

* * *

To: BWayne@Waynetech.com

From: Sendinthebrat@dun_dun_dun_dun_Batman.com

Subject: Fire the architects!

Message sent: December 3, 2002

Bruce-

You were just kidding about renovating my place, right?

Fondly,

Dick

* * *

To: Sendinthebrat@dun_dun_dun_dun_Batman.com

From: Bwayne@Waynetech.com

Subject: Re: Fire the architects!

Message sent: December 4, 2002

No, I wasn't.

P.S. Change your e-mail address.

-Bruce

* * *

                                                                                                                        DeceMber 21

DEar BrucE,

    DaD says we sHould Be bAck in GoTHam by nect Toesday. SO we can be tWoGether on ChRistMas! i've been soooo good so I hOpe I get gOOd pREsents! MoMMy TriEd tO hElp mE wRiTe this letter for You But I sAid i ShoulD do it myself. DiDn't I do good? ToMoRrow DaD says he'LL buy me a train to Go Around Our ChRistMas tree! i'm so Xcited! WriTe me soon!

Love,

JaKe

* * *

            Bruce watched as Dick pulled his black Corvette into the driveway of Wayne Manor. It had been a weekend of snow, storms and hail and Alfred had worried they wouldn't be able to catch the next flight into Gotham. Quietly, the family stepped out of the car, a caravan of black umbrella toting persons, and headed towards him. It was a solemn day of mourning for all of them. Emily Pierson was sentenced to fourteen years for her part in the murder of her brother and the family had held a small service in Lewis's honor at his gravesite. Bruce had cut his time at the service short so he could welcome Dick and the others back home. 

            As Jake caught sight of him standing ahead of them, he broke away from Dick's hand. Cassie shrilled after him, as the umbrella that was once under her was suddenly pulled away. Tim came to her rescue and the two shared a quick embrace. Barbara teased and Alfred laughed in that always refined and polite manner of his. Dick…did nothing, but gaze in newfound, awakened amazement as the small child threw himself on top of Bruce's soaked trench coat.  


End file.
